St Patrick's Disaster
by RedEyedWarrior
Summary: St Patrick's Day is a popular holiday celebrated across the globe. Sadly, this holiday will no longer be celebrated by the Total Drama cast, assuming any of them survives this epic disaster fueled by a problem with the date for the holiday.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my fic for Saint Patrick's Day. I hope you enjoy it.**

**DISCLAIMER: If I owned **_**Total Drama**_**, the cast would have went to Ireland in an episode of **_**World Tour**_**.**

* * *

Normally the streets of most Irish cities became deserted a few hours after midday on St Patrick's Day, after the parade is over. However, this year was different. This year a tour bus was speeding down the streets, almost breaking the country's speed limit. A few Garda squad cars were in hot pursuit of the tour bus, and it was not for breaking the speed limit at all.

"You are driving on the wrong side of the road!" Harold shouted at Chef, who was driving the bus. "In Ireland people drive on the **left** hand side of the road, not the **right** hand side! Curse your ignorance of the different infrastructural systems of other countries! GOSH!"

"Harold, this isn't helping!" Courtney screamed. "Just shut up and let Chef drive so we won't go to jail!"

"Going to jail in Ireland is not so bad," Harold assured Courtney. "Did you know that the average murder attracts a ten year prison sentence with six of the years suspended? The murderer will serve four years up front, and if he or she murders again, he or she will be compelled to serve the six year sentence that was suspended."

"Even if I went to jail for only one second it would still be detrimental to my chances of ever becoming Prime Minister," Courtney scoffed at Harold.

"Did you know that in Ireland the prime minister is referred to as 'Taoiseach', which is pronounced 'tee-shuck', and that the deputy prime minister is referred to as 'Tánaiste', which is pronounced 'taw-n-ish-ta'?"

"Prison isn't as bad as the media makes out," Duncan interjected, ignoring Harold.

"I take it you've never dropped the soap while you were incarcerated," Noah mused.

Duncan rose up from his seat and pointed threateningly at Noah. "Fuck you, you little cu-"

Before Duncan could go anywhere near Noah, Mal pulled Duncan onto his lap and smirked at Noah. "Oh, Duncan has dropped the soap too many times to count," Mal told the bookworm, inserting his right hand down Duncan's pants, much to the delinquent's chagrin. Noah returned the smirk and Zoey got turned on by that sight.

"Okay, I'll be the one to ask, what happened that caused us to be on the run from the police?" Gwen asked.

"It's called An Garda Siochána!" Harold corrected Gwen. "Curse your cultural insensitivity! IDIOT!"

"Nobody cares, Harold!" Heather scoffed. "But Weird Goth Girl makes a point? Why are we on the run?" she demanded to know.

"Because Irish people are blasphemous infidels who refuse to have St Patrick's Day on the 9th of March!" Trent scowled.

"So is that why you burnt down nine pubs to the ground?" Scott glared at Trent. "And not just because 'the Power of the Nine willed you into doing that'?"

"Not just any nine pubs, but nine pubs in each of the ninth largest urban centres in the country," Trent boasted.

"Way to go, math man!" Anne Maria sprayed Trent in the face with her hairspray eight times. "This is why most of us couldn't find a good spot to drink!"

"Spray me one more time!" Trent shouted.

"SIT DOWN AND SHUT DAFUQ UP, MAGGOTS!" Chef bellowed. "I CAN'T THINK STRAIGHT WITH ALL YA UNGRATEFUL BRATS FUCKING AROUND!"

"Maybe you could concentrate properly if you drive on the left!" Harold snarled. "IDIOT!"

"THAT'S IT!" Chef got up from his seat and grabbed his cane. "TIME FOR A BEATING!"

"What, who's driving the bus?!" Dawn gasped.

Suddenly, the bus proceeded to swerve out of control before crashing into a prison. Everyone on the bus survived, but the crash gave all of the prisoners to incentive to flee and wreck all sorts of havoc downtown. The prison staff scurried after them, with one of the wardens screaming:

"NO! MOST OF THEM STILL HAVE FIFTEEN MORE SECONDS TO SERVE!"

The guards who were pursuing the Total Drama cast noticed that the prison staff needed their assistance, so they changed their focus to the escaped prisoners instead.

"Now's our chance!" Alejandro hissed. Everyone crawled out of the bus and proceeded to run towards the back door of the prison to leave without a trace. When no one was looking, however, Harold ran into the streets where the guards were to berate them.

"You were supposed to be chasing after us!" Harold scolded them. "Curse you incompetence! No wonder the crime rate is so high in this country! GOSH!"

"Alright, fine!" one of the guards rolled his eyes. "Half of us will go after the prisoners and the other half will go after the Total Drama yolks! Move out!" He immediately cuffed Harold.

"This is not fair!" Harold moped. "I am too intelligent to get arrested!"

"Then maybe you should've thought of that before deciding to be a dipstick and throw yourself and everyone else under the bus!" the Garda sneered.

"I had to because you were being idiots!" Harold glared. "And for being an idiot, I shall administrate quasi-judicial corporal punishment on you! HIYA!" He punched the guard in the shoulder.

"Yeah, you are not really helping your case, are ya kid?" the Garda deadpanned. "It's an assault to hit a Garda, you know." He shoved Harold into the police car, trying to ignore Harold's facts about the Irish legal system, Ireland's healthcare policy and Ireland's social policy, etc.

* * *

A helicopter landed on the roof of a tall building. Chris McLean stepped out onto the roof and observed his surroundings.

"Where am I?" Chris thought to himself. "Better ask Chef." He got out his mobile phone and rang Chef.

"Hey Chef, have you and the slaves- er, I mean, teenagers, lost the police yet?" Chris asked.

"_I think so," Chef rolled his eyes. "Harold wandered off but fuck him! They only way to get the damn police off our backs is to get to Northern Ireland."_

"What's so great about Northern Ireland?" Chris demanded. "Other than the fact that's where _Game of Thrones_ is set."

"_The police have no jurisdiction up there," Chef explained._

"How can I tell if I'm in Northern Ireland?" Chris asked.

"CHRIIIIIIIS!" Courtney screamed over the phone after snapping the phone off Chef. "I'M SO GOING TO SUE YOU FOR ABANDONING US! YOU'LL BE HEARING FROM MY LAWYERS!"

Chris hung up the phone. "Ah, I'll just ask someone," the host shrugged. He noticed a man picking up rubbish off the concrete. Apparently a wild party must have taken place up on that roof.

"Hey, am I in Northern Ireland?" Chris asked the man.

The man whacked Chris in the head as hard as he could with the broom in his hand, knocking the host out cold. The man hoisted Chris above his shoulder and carried him into the building.

This St Patrick's Day has turned into a St Patrick's Disaster!

* * *

**Uh oh, what is going on?! Was Trent the only one who caused trouble? Will the rest of the cast get caught? Who is this man and what the hell is he going to do to Chris McLean and why is he doing this?! Find out in the next chapter!**

**I was planning to make this a one-shot, but then I realised I could make a multi-chapter fic out of this. I'm not sure when I will have the next chapter up, but hopefully very soon.**

**HAPPY SAINT PATRICK'S DAY!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, I am impressed with the reception of this fic. Time for another chapter.**

**And just so as you know: In Ireland, in police officers are referred to as Gardaí (Garda for singular) or guards. For security guards and prison guards, we just add 'security' or 'prison' before the word 'guard' for distinction.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"What the hell did you do that for?!" Chef bellowed at Courtney.

"He left us when things got complicated!" Courtney screamed.

"I told him to so he could find us a place to escape to!" Chef shouted. "We're heading to Northern Ireland where the police cannot get at us!"

"For your information, they police will still catch us because both Ireland and the United Kingdom are in the European Union!" Courtney shouted back. "And they're called guards, not the police," she added.

Everyone looked at Courtney in sheer horror.

"What?" Courtney demanded.

"You sounded a lot like Harold," Scott commented.

"WHAT?!" shrieked Courtney. She lunged for Scott and proceeded to beat the shit out of him. "HOW DARE YOU, YOU LITTLE BASTARD?! THAT IS NOT RIGHT! I WAS A COUNCILLER IN TRAINING! YOU DO NOT COMPARE ME TO HAROLD!"

"So where are we anyway?" Eva asked, trying to change the subject.

"Cork," Chef replied.

"Oh, I think that's gonna be a problem," Gwen commented.

"And why is that?" Chef asked, glaring at Gwen.

"Never mind," Gwen rolled her eyes. "I'm sure we'll make it to the North in no time."

* * *

Chris suddenly came to. He groaned.

"Uh, where am I?" Chris moaned, moving his arm so he could rub his sore head. That was when he realised that he could not move his arms. They were bounded together with ropes.

"Oh hell no…" Chris groaned.

"Hello, Chris!" came the cackling of a sinister sounding voice.

"Who… what… show yourself!" Chris gasped.

Suddenly, the light came on. As soon as it did, it swung like a pendulum a few times before hanging still, freaking Chris the fuck out. Nothing freaked him out more than the site of his captor, however.

"Hello Chris! Remember me?" the captor snickered.

"No! N-n-n-NO!" Chris shrieked. "It c-can't be!"

The captor laughed like a maniac, his laughter more disturbing than the fact that he has kidnapped Chris.

* * *

The guard was driving the squad car and he was on the verge of losing his composure and flooring the car into a building out of pure rage. Harold was in the back seat bullshitting as usual.

"Did you know that the Republic of Ireland was the first country to enshrine a public smoking ban in 2004 and the first member state of the European Union to ban in-store tobacco advertising in 2009?" Harold gabbed. "Despite that, smoking rates in the Republic of Ireland is still above 20% of the adult population, which is higher than most developed nations."

"Harold, please shut the fuck up!" the Garda finally snapped. "You're not making my job any easier!"

"Maybe being an idiot is not making your job any easier," Harold suggested. "Does Ireland not have a requirement for guards to take intelligence exams that if they fail they will lose their jobs."

"We do, but if you had your way with how those exams were laid out, you'd be the only person in Ireland qualified to become a Garda," the guard rolled his eyes.

"That's because Irish people are idiots," Harold scoffed. "GOSH!"

"Excuse me?" the guard raised an eyebrow.

"Isn't it obvious?" Harold demanded. "Every election Irish voters elect incompetent politicians who are not only lazy and greedy but they are also idiots. Furthermore, your attempts at restoring a language were completely unsuccessful and idiotic. Can Irish people even speak Irish? But in fairness you Irish people are not as idiotic as most races worldwide, considering that the Irish healthcare and education policies are among the best such policies in the world despite being idiotic policies."

"I'll take it as an insult," the guard grunted.

"Are you idiotic by Irish standards even?!" Harold shrieked. "You need to stop this car right now! I can't be in a vehicle operated by an **uber**-idiot!"

"**Most** Irish people would take it as an insult!" the Garda scolded. "And it's not because we are stupid! It's because we have empathy for people living in other countries."

"Empathy for people living in other countries?!" Harold gasped. "You donate money to make it easier for religious clergy to fly into third world countries where same-sex sexual activity is illegal and molest children! You use products manufactured in Indian sweatshops and dangerous Chinese factories that pollute the environment! You are an **uber**-uber-idiot!"

"Oh god!" the Garda groaned, banging his head on the steering wheel.

"HELP! HELP!" Harold shrieked. "THIS GARDA IS AN UBER-UBER-IDIOT! I DON'T WANT TO DIE! THE AVERAGE IQ OF THE HUMAN RACE WOULD PLUNGE! GOSH!"

"They really should permit An Garda Siochána to carry around tasers and guns," the guard grumbled.

"Jesus Christ, **all** Irish Gardaí are uber-uber-idiots!" Harold wailed. "GET ME OUT OF THIS STUPIDITY-RIDDEN COUNTRY! GET ME OUT OF THIS STUPIDITY-RIDDEN COUNTRY! That is, if you can, of course," Harold added.

"Trust me," the guard sneered, "that all depends on whether another country is willing to put up with your shit. But if you were referring to euthanasia, we'd be happy to legalise it and let you be the first to try it out."

"You can't allow me to get euthanized!" Harold scoffed. "You would be depriving humanity of an intellectual! Gosh, you Irish people are worse than the Nazis, Stalinists, Putinists, the Westboro Baptist Church and the music industry combined! Ireland should get kicked out of the United Nations!"

"Harold, you are really pushing it right now!" the Garda warned the lanky teen.

"Pushing your stupidity into oblivion?" Harold asked. "See, you are finally expressing an indication of intelligence. Though there is still a plethora of room for improvement because I had to finish that sentence for you. Keep up the good work, though."

The guard had had enough. Every last string of restraint had snapped. He slammed his foot on the brake pedal.

"That's it!" he shouted. He grabbed the baton that was lying on the passenger's seat and reached out to whack Harold over the head with it, knocking the dweeb unconscious. The Garda sighed with relief.

"Thank fuck for that," he sighed, pressing his foot against acceleration. He continued his search for the rest of the Total Drama cast.

* * *

**Will the contestants make it to the North? Is Chris already in the North? Will Harold shut the fuck up so that the guard would no longer have to flip out again? Who kidnapped Chris?**

**The next chapter will bring you closer to the answers! Until next time! GOSH! IDIOT!**


	3. Chapter 3

**As usual, I'm glad people are still reading this. Anyway, two of the four rhetorical questions in the A/N of the last chapter will be answered in this chapter. Hopefully, you will be satisfied with these answers.**

* * *

Josh stopped cackling like a maniac. He was interrupted with a cough. Grabbing some bottled water, he took a few sips and his throat was clear again. This is what happens when you laugh too long.

"Ah, man that stuff is good!" Josh sighed. "I still can't believe Irish people waste money drinking that stuff when they have an abundant supply of drinkable tap water. Are those people capitalists or something?"

"How I should I know?" Chris demanded. "I didn't even realise Irish people had the technology to have bottled water until we came here. I was even surprised they have tall buildings, aeroplanes, buses, CCTVs, shopping centres, nightclubs, flatscreen TVs, tablet computers, porn and internet."

"Of course they have that stuff," Josh rolled his eyes at Chris's ignorance. "They are the silicon valley of Europe! Millions of companies have their EMEA headquarters in Ireland. And Irish people watch lots of porn as well. They're too busy doing that to practice their religions nowadays, it seems. What shows have you been watching?!"

"Well I liked Ireland better when I thought it was still a third-world theocracy," Chris scoffed. "There are too many Irish people who act like Harold, Noah, Gwen, Duncan, Izzy, Courtney, Heather, Scott, Geoff, Dawn and LeShawna. They hack computers, think they're smarter than everyone else, act tougher than they really are, very defensive, party too much, either think that everything is gonna be alright or that the whole world is gonna die, and do crazy shit. Pretty much like every other first world country. And they drink bottled water as well, those wasters."

"Exactly," Josh agreed. "And let's not forget how greedy they are. It costs fifteen euro for a bowl of soup when in Spain it would only cost five euro."

"That's still cheaper than a bowl of soup in France," Chris scoffed.

"Yeah, but you can forgive the French for that because they are French," Josh protested. "First the Irish acted like the British, now the act like the Americans. Soon they'll act like the French and one French race is bad enough for Europe. Do you know how much influence those two races have on the world? Future generations will be rude as fuck!"

"I thought Ireland was a small country," Chris raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, well because of immigration, there are Irish people in every country except Mars, because nobody lives there," Josh griped. "They just come into other countries and act like they've lived there for ages; Ireland has basically colonised the whole world without even using their military. I'm starting to think these people are more Asian than European."

"And I thought **I** was ignorant about the Irish," Chris mused. "But let's not dwell on the power they have over the world and focus more on WHY THE FUCK HAVE YOU KIDNAPPED ME AND TIED ME UP! AND WHY THE SHIT IS YER SHIRT OFF! ARE YA TRYING TO MOLEST ME OR SOMETHING?!"

"Oh, you'll find out why I've kidnapped you soon enough," Josh smirked. "And for your information, I am shirtless because it is hot. This country is a lot hotter than I thought it was. Feels like I'm in Spain. A very expensive and overpriced Spain. Must be because of climate change of something."

"Whatever, you won't get away with this!" Chris scowled.

"So what?" Josh shrugged. "Worst case scenario I'll just have most of my sentence suspended so I'll be in jail for two years at the most. Maybe I can even be let out early for good behaviour. Then I could just go to another country and do whatever I want there."

"You are insane," Chris sneered.

"Not as insane as the idiot who lets a numerical cultist on his reality show," Josh sneered back.

"Whatever, just put yer shirt back on, please!" Chris begged.

"I told you, it's too hot," Josh protested.

"If Irish people are willing to pay money to drink water from bottles despite living on an island where it rains eleven months of the year just to make themselves look classy, then I'm pretty sure they'd rather crank up the A/C than just open a window," Chris deadpanned.

"Alright fine," Josh scoffed. "Asshole," he muttered.

* * *

"Okay, so if I remember my geography from high school and military training, we should be in Northern Ireland in twenty minutes," said Chef.

"We're in Cork," Noah quipped.

"So?" Chef shrugged

"It's gonna take about six hours to get to Northern Ireland from all the way down here," Noah pointed out.

"Well what do you know?!" Chef demanded. "Ireland is a small island. It's barely the size of Banks Island."

"That's because it is **bigger** than Banks Island," Noah deadpanned.

"Well- just- stop correcting me!" Chef shouted at the bookworm.

"Thank God Harold isn't here," Gwen muttered.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the Garda station, Harold woke up. He was sitting on a chair in the waiting room with his hands cuffed at the wrists behind his back.

"The Gardaí are such idiots!" Harold scoffed. "Don't they realise that I could just get up and leave! Why am I not tied to the chair?! GOSH!"

* * *

Chef and Noah were still arguing over how long it will take to get to the North.

"It will take ages, I keep telling ya this!" Noah insisted.

"Yeah? Well I'm older than ya! I've seen this world longer than you have!" Chef retorted.

"HEY!" Heather screamed. "BY THE TIME YOU TWO LOSERS STOP FIGHTING, MAYBE WE CAN FOCUS MORE ON **HOW** WE'LL GET THERE INSTEAD OF **WHEN**; OTHERWISE IT'LL TURN INTO A MATTER OF **IF**!"

"YOU STAY OUT OF IT, GRIMMER!" Chef bellowed.

"DON'T YOU DARE YELL AT HEATHER LIKE THAT!" Alejandro snarled at Chef.

"YEAH CHEF, YOU ASSHOLE!" Heather added.

"WE ARE GOING NOWHERE WITH ALL OF THIS YELLING!" Courtney interjected.

"I WANNA YELL TOO!" Ezekiel cut in.

"ME TOO!" Beth contributed.

"ME NINE!" Trent contributed.

"Sha-LIGHTNING!" Lightning contributed.

"EVERYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUPPP!" Eva roared so loud a stop sign was removed from the ground and it flew across several miles before hitting an old man in the face, causing him to stumble backwards into a firework display illegally set up by a gang of three teenagers, setting off the fireworks and exploding two buildings, killing a further thirteen people.

"Quick!" Trent urged. "Roar again so that eight more stop signs will be thrown into the air by the force of your sound waves!"

"NO!" Eva snapped at Trent. The fitness buff calmed herself down. "Now, we are going to hitchhike our way to the North and shut the fuck up about it. Clear?"

"Forget hitchhiking!" Tyler cheered. "I will **jog** all the way to the North, TO THE EXTREME!" He run into a wall.

"Pff, Lightning can run to the North faster than Tyler! Sha-BAM!" Lightning ran into the same wall. Everyone else, even Lindsay, facepalmed at the jocks' stupidity.

"How about we find a bus?" Zoey suggested. "If that's okay with everyone," she added.

"We would, but we don't have any euros left," Duncan groaned.

"I could whore you out to the bus driver," Mal smirked at Duncan. Zoey saw this and got turned on again. Dawn noticed this and asked Zoey:

"You approve of this?"

"Not really, but I can't help it," Zoey admitted.

"Just checking," Dawn shrugged. "But please remember that Mike is not gonna like this."

Suddenly, Mal gasped and became Mike. "What happened?" he asked.

"You don't want to know," Gwen told Mike.

"Let's just go find a way to make some money to get bus tickets," Bridgette suggested.

"Sounds good," Jo shrugged. "Let's go everyone." Everyone headed towards the city centre. Tyler and Lightning were held back by Trent, however.

"Stop! You two have to run into the wall eight more times!" Trent commanded.

"Just get a move on!" Jo ordered, grabbed Trent, Tyler and Lightning and dragging them along with her.

* * *

**Will Josh tell Chris what he's gonna do to him (besides probably molest him)? Will Chris ever find out whether or not he's in Northern Ireland? Will the contestants earn enough money for bus tickets? Will Harold stop annoying the Gardaí? Find out in the next chapter, coming soon to a website near you (DUH)!**

**Until next time!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Back again after a month of absence from this fic. More rhetorical questions have been answered, some in unexpected ways. I love the reviews I'm still getting despite my poor punctuality. Just a warning: this chapter contains a bit of racism on Jo's and Scott's part. This is the longest chapter yet, with over 3,000 words; twice as long as the other chapters.  
**

**Also, you might want to get used to how the Irish refer to different floors compared to North Americans. In Ireland the first floor is called the ground floor and what would be called the second floor in the US and Canada it would be called the first floor over here.**

**Here we go!**

* * *

"Okay, so it's gonna cost us eight euros per person to get to Northern Ireland by bus," said Bridgette, looking at the timetable.

"I still don't understand why we can't just hitchhike to the North," Dakota moped. "Making money is a lot of work."

"You seem to be forgetting that we are in **Ireland**!" Jo scoffed. "People don't stop for hitchhikers in this country anymore. They don't trust strangers, all because of those goddamn-"

Gwen covered Jo's mouth before the latter could finish. "Okay, you may not want to say what I think you're about to say," Gwen warned. "People will think you're a racist."

Jo shoved Gwen's hand aside and finished her sentence anyway. Nevertheless, a lot of people heard what she said and gasped in shock.

"Oh great," Noah moaned. "Now we're likely to get sued under the country's anti-defamation laws."

All of the sudden, the whole crowd burst into laughter at what Jo said. Many of whom doubled over. Some of the people even shat in their pants.

"Interesting," Cameron observed. "Racism and other forms of bigotry must be considered a laughing matter in Ireland."

"Now that I think about it, some Lithuanian gentleman called me a "border-hopper" last night, thinking I was Mexican, and everyone laughed, thinking they were laughing with me," Alejandro rolled his eyes.

"Good to know the immigrants are assimilating quickly into Irish culture," Zoey shrugged.

"Hey look," Geoff pointed. "The people are coming towards us. They might be giving us money." He took off his hat and laid it on the ground. The people immediately started pouring coins and notes into the hat until it couldn't hold anymore. They left.

"We might just have enough money for the bus and some leftover money for a party in the North," Geoff smiled.

"Let's not talk about parties until we get back to Canada, okay?" Heather groaned.

"We'll need at least 304 euro for the bus tickets alone," Noah added.

"It doesn't look like we have even half that much," Scott muttered.

All of a sudden, a bus came speeding out of nowhere and heading towards the contestants, looking like it was about to run them over. However, it abruptly stopped seven metres away from them. Izzy stepped out of the bus: "E-scope found a bus!" she chirped.

"More like 'stole' a bus," Noah scoffed.

"Yeah but Izzy got away with it," Izzy laughed. "In fact, all of the buses left abandoned in that park were from the same bus service, and they all had a notice saying the service would be out of operation until further notice due to strikes."

"Meanwhile, all the other bus networks are still in operation and selling tickets at cheaper prices, making more money while they're at it," Jo snickered.

"Ya, my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather invented strikes," Staci fibbed. "Before that, CEOs and factory owners had less money while employees had more. How sad?"

"Well, should we get going?" Izzy smirked, ignoring Staci.

LeShawna hesitated for a moment. "I'm not comfortable being in a vehicle with you driving it," she glared.

"Relax, Izzy only ran over two New Zealanders on her way over here," Izzy laughed.

* * *

_Flashback_

"_GET OUTTA MAH COUNTRY YE MEDDLIN' FOREIGN BUGGERS, YA!" Izzy roared in a thick, Irish country accent, as she chased after the two New Zealand tourists._

"_HELP! SOMEBODY HELP US!" one of the New Zealanders shrieked. "THIS RACIST MANIAC IS TRYING TO RUN US OVER!"_

"_PLEASE HELP!" the other New Zealander shrieked. Izzy kept cackling like a maniac as she pursued her victims while speeding through the pedestrianized streets._

_End Flashback_

* * *

"Quick, run over seven more New Zealanders!" Trent urged. "That should teach then to have ten letters in New Zealand!"

"Anyone who can drive besides those two lunatics please come forward!" Chef barked. "I need to rest my head!"

B stepped forward.

So did Zoey. "I'll drive, if that's okay with everyone," she volunteered.

"Good," said Chef. "Everyone get in," he commanded. B stuck his middle finger up at Zoey and stomped into the back of the bus in a sulk.

"Where's Duncan and Vito?" Anne Maria asked.

All of a sudden, Mal sauntered out of an alleyway with Duncan's clothes in his left arm and a sack of money in his right hand. Duncan followed, wearing nothing but his boxers. He looked very grumpy and he was sweating profusely.

"You realise this wasn't necessary, y'know," Courtney sneered. "Izzy found us a bus and we didn't even have to pay a cent."

"Who said I was sharing the dough with ya bitches," Mal smirked. "This is all mine."

"Hey, I was the one who shifted all those clients!" Duncan snarled.

"And you're all mine as well," Mal laughed. "You get three fifths of the money, but what's yours is mine because you're all mine."

"Back off my man, criminal!" Anne Maria ran up to Duncan to spray him in the face.

"Let's just get out of here before the cops show up," Eva grunted. And so everyone got on the bus, though Trent shoved Katie and Sadie aside so that he could be the ninth person to get on. Just before Zoey drove off, some of the contestants witnessed a large group of Catholic priests, Imams, Orthodox rabbis and Fundamentalist pastors walk out of the same alleyway Mal and Duncan were in. All of them were sweaty and they looked guilty and very paranoid.

"Okay…" Gwen raised an eyebrow, "that explains why more and more Irish people are becoming pragmatic atheists by the day." The bus drove off and left in silence, with everyone on it trying to forget what they've just witnessed.

But you know what they say: once seen, can never be unseen.

* * *

"Okay, so are you ready to find out why I've kidnapped you?" Josh cackled.

"Dude, you pretty much told me half an hour ago that I'd find out soon enough," Chris rolled his eyes. "Isn't there supposed to be some sort of context to this or what?"

"SILENCE!" Josh ordered. "The reason I've kidnapped you is…." Josh paused melodramatically and whispered into Chris's ear: "cos I can!"

"Okay, you just penetrated my ear worse than any Justin Bieber song ever could with the way you whispered into it and got some spit inside my ear," Chris groaned.

"Well that's not very nice!" Josh snapped.

"What reaction did you expect from me?!" Chris demanded. "You kidnapped me for no reason! You're wasting your time. And more importantly, you're also wasting **my** time!"

"So doing something for media attention doesn't really count as a reason?" Josh rolled his eyes.

"For media attention?! Really?!" Chris snorted.

"It's a tough life!" Josh scowled. "They cancelled _Celebrity Manhunt_ because of the blanket ban on inaccurate reporting in the media! I need to get attention **somehow**!"

"Don't the news have better things to be doing?" Chris rolled his eyes.

"Ireland is a small country with just four and a half million people," Josh insisted. "The news would report **anything**! And the media attention has been long overdue!" he added, grabbing a saucepan and hitting Chris over the head with it.

* * *

An hour later the gang approached another city.

"Hey, is that Limerick?" DJ asked.

"It is indeed," Geoff smiled. "Do you think we could stop by at Galway after this? I hear Galway is supposed to be a rad city for partying."

"We'll have to get out of this country first," Noah deadpanned. "And then wait until we are allowed back in."

"Hey look at all those tall silver buildings!" Beth smiled. "And brown ones as well. Let's not forget the Georgian buildings."

"A mix of and old and the new," Courtney beamed.

"Yeah, my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother invented the old and the new!" Staci gabbed. "Before that-"

"NOBODY CARES!" everyone raised their voices.

Zoey pulled into a bus-parking spot. "Okay, so hopefully we will have enough time to get some food and go to the toilets," she told everyone.

"Actually, there is a toilet on the bus," Gwen informed her.

"Uh oh, I kinda wished someone had told me this earlier," Owen groaned.

"It's right in front of you," Jo scoffed. "And what is that smell. Please tell me you are still holding your shit in."

Before Owen could answer, Noah spoke up: "I'm sure there are shopping centres around here that are still open so that we could get food AND so that Owen could go to a toilet that I would never have to use again."

"I'm afraid he's already went," Jo spluttered, moving away from Owen as much as possible.

"So how much do we have?" Gwen asked Bridgette, who took the money from Geoff.

"147 euro and 38 cent," Bridgette replied, as everyone shuffled out of the bus.

"Someone go ask where the nearest shopping centre is," Katie said. "I'd love to go shopping."

"OMG, me too!" Sadie squealed.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Sadie and Katie squealed in unison.

"The only thing that would be open in any shopping centre right now is the supermarket," Anne Maria reminded the girls. "Which is a shame because I'm nearly out of hairspray."

"Maybe you wouldn't be out of hairspray if you didn't spray it at me!" Duncan snarled at Anne Maria. Anne Maria sprayed in Duncan's face again. Meanwhile, a car was driving out of the parking garage of a four-storey building that was across the road from the bus stop where the bus was parked. Zoey signalled for its attention, so the car stopped beside her and the window was rolled down.

"Can I help ya?" a young male with curly brown hair in the driver's seat asked.

"Yeah, can you direct us to the nearest shopping centre?" Zoey asked.

"Oh sure," the man smiled. He pointed towards the building he just drove out of. "There's a Tesco in there and it's open. All the other shops are closed, though the casino is probably open."

Zoey looked a little to her right to realise that the building had big windows with advertisements on them. She blushed in embarrassment. "Oops, I didn't notice that this was a shopping centre… sorry," she sheepishly replied.

"No worries," the man nodded. "Enjoy the rest of your stay in Ireland." He drove off.

"Did you tell him that we could not enjoy the rest of our stay in Ireland due to unfortunate circumstances?" Noah sneered.

"Fuck off Noah," Zoey scoffed. "At least that man didn't make fun of us for asking an obvious question as that would happen in Canada, not like the Irish or **anyone** would believe that most Canadians are rude."

"Well we're wasting enough time," Lindsay spoke as she crossed the road to get into the shopping centre. "I have new shoes to buy and not enough time to look around already."

Before Noah could remind her that the shops are closed, Heather cut him off. "Don't waste your breath," she advised him. "That girl is a basket case." Noah shrugged and entered the shopping centre along with everybody else.

"I WANT TO GO ON THE MOVING STAIRS!" Brick shouted once everyone was inside.

"Those are called escalators, Brick-for-brains," Jo jeered.

"I WANT TO GO ON THE MOVING STAIRS!" Brick shouted even louder, having ignored Jo's insult.

"NO!" Scott shouted. "We don't have enough time and there is no shop upstairs that is open!"

"I WANT TO GO ON THE MOVING STAIRS!" Brick screamed. Before anyone could stop him, he ran over to a downward escalator and run up it. Or at least he **tried** to. Brick fell over and landed at the bottom of the escalator and cried. Eva went up to the cadet, grabbed his arm and smacked him hard. Jo pointed and laughed at Brick for his misfortune.

"YOU'RE A MEANIE!" Brick screamed at Eva, hitting her in the leg. Eva kicked him in the chin, knocking him unconscious.

"And that," Noah told Heather, "is what a basket case is."

"HA! Call that running up an escalator?!" Tyler boasted. "I'll show you the true sport of running up an escalator!" And so Tyler ran towards an escalator that was actually going upwards. Unsurprisingly, he fell just soon as he first stepped on the escalator. He laid down and sobbed louder and more obnoxiously than Brick as he was carried up towards the first floor of the building.

"Someone should probably go get him before he ends up getting kidnapped by somebody who 'just happens' to have a job similar to that of the people who rented out Duncan," Heather snarked.

"What makes you think that clergymen could be lurking around a shopping centre?" LeShawna questioned while Duncan glared at Heather.

"Hello!" Heather rolled her eyes. "It's Saint Patrick's Day in **Ireland**. Christian priests and pastors hold services on the mornings of Paddy's Day for some reason but everyone knows that Christians in Ireland are too busy recovering from hangovers from the night before to bother going to those services. The clergy get so bored that they sneak off into public shopping areas hoping to find some homeless drunkards that slept through the night there and take advantage of them while they pass the time."

"I heard that Heather was excommunicated from the Catholic Church because of her opinions on the Vatican and for generalising Christian clergy," Sierra mentioned. "Is that true?" she asked Heather, who gave her a look warning the stalker to shut her mouth.

"Actually, what Heather said **could** happen," Scott shrugged. "But that is still very rare. But there is a great probability that someone belonging to a particular group is hiding up there waiting to beat someone up for a laugh."

"What kind of group?" Jo wondered.

"The same group you mentioned earlier that I won't mention in case I get my ass kicked for passing off a racial slur?" Scott replied.

"You do realise that not all people of that group are like that right?" DJ looked concerned. "They have it bad enough being at the receiving end of discrimination and verbal abuse coming from the Irish and the British."

"Look, will somebody just get Tyler because if he gets molested by a stranger they are going to want to start molesting Alejandro as well because of all those dumb AleTyler pairings and I can't have that," Heather glared. All of a sudden, everyone heard Izzy cackling from upstairs.

"Well at least **somebody** found him," Heather rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, well he's still getting molested right now," Gwen mused.

"Better Izzy than a fan," Heather shrugged.

"Sierra is a fan, but she's molesting Cody and Cameron right now," Sam pointed out. "Did you not see her drag them off to the restroom?"

"Speaking of which, where is the restroom?" Owen sheepishly laughed. "I already did a poo in my pants so I have to dump it in the toilet, heh-heh."

Noah, realising that if Owen follows them into Tesco, there would be no food left for them to buy and not enough money to pay for all the food Owen ate, said: "You could use the toilets in this building, but why would you want to when you could just go to the toilets in a McDonald's restaurant that is just right outside this shopping centre?" Owen happily skipped off to where the McDonald's was.

"Take Justin with you as well," Alejandro called after Owen. "He'd love some McDonald's." Owen ran back, grabbed Justin and continued to skip towards McDonald's.

"FUCK YOU ALE-HAND-JOB!" Justin screamed at Alejandro as Owen carried him away.

Heather smirked at this. "Serves him right for writing fan fiction of me with Anne Maria," she hawed. Anne Mara shrugged, not seeing the big deal in Justin's perversions.

"Wait, you know where the nearest McDonald's is?!" Chef glared at Noah.

"Yeah, I've been to Limerick a couple of times before," Noah replied. "I have cousins living in Ennis, which is about an hour away from the city. And before anyone asks, Limerick is actually a very safe city. It is not as bad as many other European cities in terms of safety and crime," he added.

"Shouldn't McDonald's be closed on Saint Patrick's day?" Dakota asked.

"Probably, I dunno," Noah shrugged. "But Owen would probably break in if it was closed anyway and then get arrested. He'd forget that we are nearby and the guards wouldn't bother to check as they arrest him."

* * *

Meanwhile…

Owen and Justin were right outside McDonald's. Owen was pounding on the door. "Hello?!" Owen called out. "Anybody in there?!" he asked.

All of a sudden, a man in a Ronald McDonald costume appeared at the other side of the door. "Sure thing, little boys," he smirked in a disturbingly deep, demonic voice, licking his lips as he unlocked the door. "You will be loving it in no time!" Owen was more than excited to enter, but Justin knew what was going to happen but kept his mouth shut, knowing he could not wrestle out of Owen's tight grip.

* * *

"I thought Owen was your friend," Bridgette looked at Noah disapprovingly.

"Yeah, and I thought Gwen was your friend as well prior to the first aftermath of Total Drama Action," Noah rolled his eyes. "Let's just get into the supermarket before more weird things start to happen."

As he said that, the glassed dome on the ceiling above crashed and Harold fell to the floor along with a few shards of glass.

* * *

**So how did Harold get removed from police custody? Will we ever find out if Chris and Jo are in the North? Will Justin be able to break free from own and the strange man at the last second before the unspeakable happens to him? Will Josh do the same to Chris?**

**Until next time!**


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